


That's when Miss Maria Reynolds walked into my life

by alishakes



Category: Broadway RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Grofflin, Guys do you remember the Shakespeare in the park vine, Imagines, M/M, One Shot, Spot the ITH reference, This happened as a result
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 17:52:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alishakes/pseuds/alishakes
Summary: "Anthony had come running into the Richard Rodgers ten minutes late to rehearsal, face flushed and bag half falling off his shoulder."Sorry I’m late, man. Jazzy’s real sick."Which would have been fine, honestly. The show must go on, and all that jazz.It would have been okay, if the understudy wasn’t on holiday. And if the understudy’s understudy wasn’t at a funeral.They were fucked."Or: Replacement cast members are hard to get, okay?





	That's when Miss Maria Reynolds walked into my life

* * *

Their lips, bare millimetres apart. A hair’s width away, breath mingling. There in an instant, away with a brush of hair. A rouged pout sinfully curling around the notes, lustful eyes downcast, eyeing up the body before him. The body of Maria Reynolds curled around Alexander Hamilton, pure want written across his face. Lin internally cursed. He was fucked.

...

"Hey Lin?" Jonathan’s voice called from behind him, their eyes meeting in the shared mirror. Lin grunted, urging him to continue.

"You know that vine we did? Shakespeare In The Park?" Jon combed his hair absentmindedly as he spoke, Lin’s eyes catching the carding motion. "Well, what if that happened?"

Lin stopped for a second, mouth agape in exaggerated horror. "Jon don’t you dare curse us like that!" Lin mockingly glared at Jon’s giggling, which lead to them both laughing, happiness rolling in waves from their bodies.

The incident was forgotten about for about a week, shows all rolling into one, all standing out individually. Friday’s had left Lin drained, after a day of working on another project and then a three hour show- he was ready to sleep before tomorrow’s two show day.

Unfortunately, the cast had other ideas. After half an hour of Pippa’s begging, he’d finally caved, agreeing to go to her place with the rest of the company.

"Come on, you can ride with me."

Lin turned, seeing a soft smile on Jon’s face. He absently noticed his own stomach fluttering at that, but he forsook voicing that for a grin of his own. They walked to Jon’s car together in companionable silence, the butterflies still making themselves known, but settling into something more comfortable, something more familiar.

Jon unlocked the car, movements unconsciously synchronising with Lin’s. Their doors slammed shut, and Jon fired up the engine. They left the car park, exchanging a few words about the plans for tonight, for tomorrow. Jon turned up the radio and let the music wash over him, and for once, Lin didn’t feel the need to just talk, for talking’s sake.

Lin made the decision (a bad one, really) to look across to Jon during the journey. He was going to make a joke, his mouth opening to comment on the woman across the street, or the haircut the director got, or the cute dog he saw yesterday, because really, it was wearing rain boots Jon, rain boots. Still, the words never came, his mouth agape with half formed sentences on the tip of his tongue. He sucked in a breath, and just looked, observed for once. Orange streetlights cast an ethereal glow across his features, eyelash shadows delicately dancing on his pale skin. His bicep was framed by the low light, making a darkness contrast the reflection on his face. He was, in a word, beautiful.

The night went swimmingly, nobody commented on how distracted Lin was. He excused himself as soon as possible, greeting his empty apartment with a weary sigh and clambered into bed, thoughts of streetlights invading his dreams.

The incident didn’t come to a head, though, until the next Tuesday (thank God it was a Tuesday; there’s only one show on a Tuesday).

Anthony had come running into the Richard Rodgers ten minutes late to rehearsal, face flushed and bag half falling off his shoulder.

"Sorry I’m late, man. Jazzy’s real sick."

Which would have been fine, honestly. The show must go on, and all that jazz. It would have been okay, if the understudy wasn’t on holiday. And if the understudy’s understudy wasn’t at a funeral.

They were fucked.

An emergency meeting was called, all of the principals cramming into the stage manager’s sorry excuse for an office, a renovated broom closet. Voices overlapped, all shouting over each other- chaos quickly overtook the theatre.

"We can’t run the show without one of our Schuyler sisters-"

"We can’t pull the show either!"

"What about Maria?"

This battle continued, a constant back and forth. Pippa was willing to cover, they could call in someone for her, right? She could be Peggy instead, just for a night. She was playing the voice of reason when a voice called out:

"What about me?"

Silence befell the scene, as 15 sets of eyes turned to face the speaker. An embarrassed blush spread across his cheeks, Jon realising what he’d just suggested. He scratched the back of his neck nervously as the flush spread. Chris was the first to speak:

"What about you?"

And that’s how it began. Somehow, Jon had convinced the cast, the crew and maybe even himself, that he could pull off Maria Reynolds. He saw the show every night, of course he knows the moves. Jasmine’s character sang low harmony anyway, and he sang high for a guy, if he warmed up properly. Yeah, it would be fine.

The only problem was this- the second act couldn’t be rehearsed. Lin was working on something for Disney, a secret project of sorts that took up most of his time. And, well, it was all fine and dandy practicing with Daveed, but who knew what the real thing would be like? Lin was a professional, though. He’d be able to deal with it.

The text made it through to Lin’s phone during a writing session, so of course it got ignored for another three hours. At 5, three hours before the show, he finally checked his phone.

“ _(3) New Messages from Groffsauce : )” “Just in case nobody has told you, Jaz is ill.”_

_“I should probably add that I’m her replacement.”_

_“See you soon!”_

Lin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. How can Jon be playing Peggy?

After arriving at the theatre, Lin was ushered straight upstairs. The 30 minute call was projected around the theatre, and there he was, still stressing over the show. That couldn’t distract him forever, so when the time came he took the stage, let the lights comfort him, let himself get lost in the character. He threw himself into the role, forgetting why he was nervous in the first place.

Jon sat in the chair, feeling like a specimen under scrutiny. So far, the show had gone without a hitch, if anything the audience loved seeing Peggy in drag for once. There was a few confused looks at first, eyes silently wondering why the third Schuyler Sister looked, well, manly. But they grew to love Jon’s awkward dancing and the lack of polished finesse. He waited in front of the mirror, feeling brushes flit around his face as the makeup team made him look more demure.

Before the show, he had grabbed Lin and smirked, reminding him of what Act Two had to offer. Lin’s eyes widened, and he scampered off, saying something along the lines of “Ain’t no business like show business.”

This, naturally, left Jon feeling apprehensive and somewhat uneasy, his mind racing as he was forced into a tight red gown, the fabric making his skin almost glow.

One of the ensemble members, Amber, he thinks, shrieked upon seeing him. After she had calmed down (“Jesus Christ, Groff, you make that dress look better than I ever could”), she helped him with his lipstick. She moved in close with the applicator, still fresh from the tube. She instructed him, until a perfect shape adorned his face. She grinned, satisfied with her handiwork.

Jon moved to the mirror, an awe filled expression on his face. His eyelashes were accentuated by a thick layer of mascara, fanning out in all directions. His features were sculpted, softer lines and curves. And his lips. They looked so much bigger than usual, the colour matching the deep hue of his dress, looking like spilt wine.

He was ushered upstairs as the time came. A thumbs up from the stage hand, and there he was. Jon took purposeful strides on the stage, head high, the wig coiffed perfectly, looking haphazardly tossed over his left shoulder. An ominous cello played as Leslie said his part, stood watching extra intently from a prop streetlight.

Alexander looked up to see Maria, and for a second it was Lin, just Lin staring. Jon found his voice again, lips forming syllables and notes, lower than the usual key but somehow still as rich. He confidently moved, swaying sensually to the rhythm as the music played around him. Lin was entranced, every movement alighting something new within him. They were so close to each other, Jon was practically laid on top of him, and it was too much to pretend he didn’t love it, didn’t want more. Jon could see, even in the red light, that Lin’s pupils were blown, he could hear the quick gasps between words.

As the song climaxed, the choreography grew more intimate, and it took all of Lin’s strength to not rock up into the body on his lap, his lips ghosting Jon’s ear. He radiated pure want, practically moaning the word “yes”, his vibrato sending shockwaves through Lin’s body. Maria Reynolds, the epitome of sin.

“Nobody needs to know.”

If anyone noticed that Hamilton seemed a little distracted during _The Room Where It Happens_ , at least everyone had the grace to remain silent about it.

Lin practically dragged himself to the dressing room after the show. Through the bows, he couldn’t bare to take his eyes off Jon, looking almost regal in the simple white dress for the finale. Unfortunately, he’d slipped off in the confusion, so Lin was left to walk alone.

He pushed open the heavy dressing room door with a sigh, stopping short by the sight that greeted him. There was Jon, in a simple tee, paint splattered jeans clinging obscenely to his thighs. He spun around in the leatherette chair, a smile gracing his features. It was red. His painted lips, the same colour as he wore not 30 minutes ago. Lin was gobsmacked.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What do you think?”

“What do I think about what?” Lin thought about a lot of things. What milk is the best, which Chinese place to order from, how many bees could fit in a phone box. But he point-blank refused to think about this.

Jon playfully rolled his eyes, “What do you think about-“ Jon slowly stood up from where he was sitting as he spoke, not once breaking eye contact with Lin. He crowded Lin into the now closed door, bracketing his body with his arms, “-this?”

Lin swallowed, wide eyes flitting between Jon’s hand on the door, and those sin filled _atrocities_ before him. A deer caught in the headlights, Jon the driver. Jon leaned in, his breathing growing more laboured and heavy with every inch. His arm bent to support more weight; Lin mirrored the movement by pressing his hands to the door, palms flat (no touching, not yet).

Jon’s breath ghosted past his lips, gracing his cheek in that glorious pain of almost, almost there. Almost touching, Lin could feel his body heat for goodness sake. But Jon drew it out, mouth forming a lazy drawl just below his earlobe.

“I think the red rather suits me,” Jon leaned up, slightly, to nip at the shell of his ear. “Don’t you?”

Lin was helpless but to whimper, a forbidden whine as affirmation. Jon’s teeth skimmed Lin’s jaw, it twitching from the contact. Jon pulled back.

Lin looked dishevelled, his hair falling in loose strands around his face. His cheeks were a gorgeous shade of lust filled shame. A halo. There he was, Jon’s angel, right before him.

Lin could feel his chest heaving, spasmodic movement an echo of the heavy pounding around his ears, in his chest. The hot pulsing kept the beat, a rhythmic sound. Every bar an impossible eternity, the perpetual drumbeat the only certainty. He could see Jon’s eyes tracing his body, could feel the intensity as they dragged up his form. A fresh smirk adorned Jon’s mouth, white teeth flashing with mirth.

“How do you say kiss me?” Jon whispered.

“Bésame.”

And with them standing so close, with Lin pushed flat against the door, well, how could Jon refuse?

It was chaste and careful, a gentle pressure. Neither wanting to tip the boat, both wishing for more. Lin was floating, his toes curling in a gentle bliss. He moaned, low and keening, blunt fingernails dragging against the door.

All too soon, Jon was slowly pulling himself away, taking in the faint red smudge on Lin’s lips, the chocolate eyes fluttering open in a hazy awakening. Jon moved to cradle Lin’s cheek in his palm. A soft smile spread across his face- contentment.

“God, I wanna get this red shit off.”

And just like that, the spell was broken, they sat and giggled together while Jon navigated a packet of wet wipes.

And if maybe they sat a little too close together in the back of Anthony’s car later that night, well, who needed to know?

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope Lin never finds this
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr @alisonone


End file.
